


Applied Reciprocity

by onemechanicalalligator



Series: Topics in Romance and Recovery [8]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Recovery, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: “Can I talk to you about something?” Abed asks when they’re about halfway through the meal. “It’s kind of uncomfortable.”Jeff has helped Abed so much over the last few weeks, and now it's Abed's turn to return the favor.
Relationships: Abed Nadir & Jeff Winger
Series: Topics in Romance and Recovery [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775179
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	Applied Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning to write more one shots as part of this series, but not in chronological order. This one takes place after Troy goes back to the boat, but there will definitely be more stories about the time that Troy and Abed spend together. I'll keep things in order chronologically within the series, but I just wanted to make it clear that I probably won't be posting in order moving forward!

After they drop Troy off at the airport, Jeff and Abed get lunch at a diner near Abed’s apartment. Jeff tries not to watch Abed too much while he eats, but he’s relieved to see that he _is_ eating, and that it’s something other than noodles. Abed catches him one of the times he glances over, and he just smiles.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Abed asks when they’re about halfway through the meal. “It’s kind of uncomfortable.”

“I mean, we’ve mostly been talking about uncomfortable things for the last several weeks, haven’t we?” Jeff says.

“Yeah, but this is different. It’s, um. About you?”

“What about me?” Jeff asks, suspicious.

“That first day, when you came with me to the hospital,” Abed says. “After I woke up and everything, you, um...showed me your scar. The one on your stomach. And you explained where it came from, and why you understood. About...that kind of stuff.”

“I remember,” Jeff says, taking a page from Abed’s book and staring over his shoulder instead of making eye contact.

“You also said you’d done it more times since then, because it helps,” Abed says. From his peripheral vision, Jeff can see he’s biting his lip. He doesn’t want to answer, but he thinks that would be a little hypocritical after everything Abed’s been through.

“Yes,” he says.

“I guess I just wanted to ask what I wish I’d asked at the time. Which is…are you okay? And is that still something you struggle with?”

Jeff freezes.

He thinks about that first night Abed spent in the hospital, when he got back to his condo and felt helpless and rattled and scared and exhausted. When he was shaking so hard the glass of scotch he was drinking fell out of his hand and shattered on the floor. When he picked up one of the pieces of glass and thought about what he would tell Abed, if he were the one holding it. 

He thinks about that first night Abed spent in the hospital, when he made the wrong choice.

He thinks about the shard of glass that’s still hidden in the drawer of his night stand, just in case he needs it again, and he snaps out of his trance and realizes he’s put a hand around his forearm without realizing it, inadvertently outing himself, exposing the location of his newest scar.

“When?” Abed asks quietly.

Jeff shrugs and doesn’t say anything. He _will not_ put this on Abed’s shoulders.

“Before or after I went to the hospital?”

“Abed…” Jeff says, but doesn’t know how to finish the thought.

“After. Got it,” Abed says. “I’m sorry if it was my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t your _fault,”_ Jeff says. “You, of all people, should know it doesn’t work like that. Is it Troy’s fault you cut yourself? Or Hickey’s?”

Abed flinches when he hears the phrase _cut yourself._ He does every time. Spending three weeks in the hospital apparently didn’t change that.

“No,” Abed says. “You’re right.” He tilts his head at Jeff and blinks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jeff says automatically.

“You didn’t give yourself time to think about your answer,” Abed says calmly. “I know all about answering on autopilot, too. Maybe you could take a sip of your drink and then answer me again?”

Jeff rolls his eyes, but he does it.

"I'm…" he says, intending to repeat himself, and then he sees the way Abed is looking at him, and he's hit with the memory of the trust they built over the last few weeks. "I have ups and downs," he finishes. "Sometimes things get hard and I make bad choices." 

"You can always come to me," Abed says softly. "When you think you might be about to make a bad choice. You could call me, or text me. Maybe I could help you redirect." 

"Thanks, Abed," Jeff says, and he doesn't love how rough his voice sounds. "You can always come to me, too." 

Abed nods. "I know. And I'm sure I will. I've only been home for three days but…it hasn't always been easy. I had Troy around to help me. But now he's…" He trails off. 

"Anytime," Jeff says. "Day or night. I don't care if I'm asleep or teaching or anything else. Reach out and I will be there." 

"Only if you promise, too," Abed says. "Promise you'll tell me if you ever don't feel safe." 

Jeff stares at him. 

"Safe from yourself," Abed clarifies. "It's what they say in the hospital. You have to contract for safety." 

"I really am fine, Abed," Jeff says. "You don't need to worry about me." 

"I would have told you the same thing up until the minute I passed out in that closet," Abed says fiercely. "I probably would have told you that while I was…" He reaches up and touches his left upper arm. "I think I even believed it. So, forgive me, but I will definitely be worrying about you." 

"Hey, you didn't happen to tell any of the others about my…about me, did you?" Jeff asks, as the thought occurs to him for the first time. 

"Of course not, Jeff." Abed looks horrified. "That's your business. And you told me not to. I would never--" 

"I know, Abed, I know. Sorry. I just...I don’t know.” Jeff shrugs. “I got scared.”

Abed nods. “That’s understandable. I went from nobody knowing to everybody knowing in a very short period of time. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I promise not to say a word. I just need you to promise you’ll at least try to talk to me if you don’t feel safe.” He pauses. “To be clear, my keeping your secret isn’t conditional or anything. That’s just a request.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I...will try.”

They spend the rest of lunch talking about Troy, and Greendale, and inconsequential things.

* * *

Almost two weeks go by before Jeff finds himself on the bathroom floor with the shard of glass in one hand and his cell phone in the other. The phone is open to his text chain with Abed, and he’s typed out the message and everything:

**I don’t think I’m feeling very safe right now.**

His thumb hovers over the send button, but he’s not looking at it. He’s staring at his other hand, which is trembling, which doesn’t bode well for what he wants to do. His thoughts are racing so fast he feels like he can’t focus on anything, and he twitches involuntarily, and his thumb sends the message without his brain telling it to.

An excruciating 30 seconds go by before Abed responds.

**ABED: Do you want me to come over?**

**JEFF: Do you even have a car?**

**ABED: I can get there if you need me.**

**JEFF: …**

**JEFF: …**

**JEFF: …**

**ABED: I can be there in 10 minutes. Will you be okay until then?**

**JEFF: I think so.**

**ABED: See you soon.**

Abed arrives 9 minutes later. He knocks, but Jeff can’t bring himself to get up. He texts Abed that there’s a key above the door, and he hears Abed let himself in. A few seconds later Abed is in the bathroom, out of breath.

“Did you _run_ here?” Jeff asks.

“I don’t have a car, and you live close,” Abed says.

“You could have called an Uber.”

“This was quicker. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If I help you, can you stand up?”

Jeff nods and Abed holds out a hand. Jeff takes it, a little surprised at his strength, and puts a hand on the sink to steady himself. He forgets to pay attention to the things in his hands, and the piece of glass and his phone both fall loudly to the floor. Abed picks both up before Jeff can. He shoves the glass in his pocket and hands the phone back to Jeff.

“What are you doing with that?” Jeff asks, pointing to Abed’s pocket.

“Getting rid of it,” Abed says. “I’m not gonna throw it in this trash can, you’ll just fish it out again.”

“You’re not going to…” Jeff begins, and makes a face.

“No,” Abed says. “You caught me on a good night. Everything is fine. Come on, let me help you to your room, okay?”

He takes Jeff's hand and guides him to his bedroom, and they both sit down on the bed. Jeff can’t bring himself to look at Abed, so he starts smoothing down the sheets and comforter.

“I’m not a therapist,” Abed says softly. “Obviously. I’m not here to fix you. I’m just here as your friend who gets it. To hang out with you until you feel safe again.”

“This is embarrassing,” Jeff mutters, still looking at his bedding. 

“I get that, too,” Abed says, and chuckles darkly. “But I’m pretty sure you weren’t judging me in the hospital, and I hope that will help you believe that I’m not judging you now.”

“I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of _you,”_ Jeff blurts out, and finally turns to look at Abed, who just looks back at him.

“Friendship goes both ways,” he says simply.

Jeff lays back on the bed so he’s staring at the ceiling. A few moments later, Abed joins him. Jeff wants to speak, wants to explain his actions away, wants to convince Abed that he’s fine and he doesn’t need him. Wants to tell him that he’ll be fine, that Abed can go home, that it’s no big deal. That this was a false alarm.

Except that’s not _really_ what Jeff wants, and it _isn’t_ a false alarm. Jeff is embarrassed, but he’s also surprisingly relieved to have Abed here with him, to be with another person instead of alone with his thoughts. And not just another person, another person who isn’t going to think he’s crazy or manipulative or pathetic, who isn’t going to overreact but also isn’t going to let him get away with anything.

It hits Jeff what an incredible friendship he and Abed have, how lucky he is to have someone like this in his life, and it’s like being knocked over by a wave on the beach. He finds his face suddenly covered in saltwater, only it’s coming from _him,_ not the ocean. His eyes are overflowing, and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and he can’t get a grip on these emotions so he just lets them carry him away out to sea.

And then Abed _catches him,_ he physically puts his arms around Jeff and pulls him into a hug, right there on the bed, fitting Jeff’s head to his shoulder and slipping an arm behind his back to rub in small circles. Jeff latches onto Abed, holding him tight and letting himself fall apart, because really, he has no other option at this point. He’s vaguely aware that his tears are soaking into Abed’s shirt, and he wants to apologize, but he can’t really think that straight, and Abed doesn’t say anything.

Jeff cries himself to sleep. At least, he assumes that’s what happens, because next thing he knows it’s morning, and he’s curled up on top of his covers, still in his clothes from yesterday, and Abed is sprawled out next to him, still asleep. 

Jeff takes a shower and changes, then makes breakfast. Abed comes out as he’s finishing up, and Jeff hands him a plate. They sit down at the counter and eat. Neither of them says a word.

Halfway through his eggs, Jeff puts his fork down.

“Thanks,” he says, and gives Abed a small smile.

“Anytime,” Abed replies, and shoots finger guns at Jeff. “How--”

“Much better,” Jeff assures him. “You got me through the worst part.”

“You got me through the worst part a bunch of times,” Abed whispers. “I feel like I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“It’s what friends do,” Jeff says. “We help each other when we don’t feel safe. Friendship goes both ways. Right?”

“Right,” Abed says, a grin breaking out across his face.

“Want a ride home?” Jeff asks, when Abed hands him his empty plate.

“That would be great,” Abed replies, and they head out to the car.


End file.
